


A New Hope

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Dystopia, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Sometimes, when darkness falls, a new kind of flame is ignited.





	A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the prompt "Northern Lights" for the Evakteket Skamenger Hunt.
> 
> P is a shining beacon of light in this dark Swedish winter and looked this over for me – thank you, darling <3
> 
> Enjoy!

He sees Isak from a distance, before he’s noticed, his footsteps muffled by the knee-deep snow, white and soft and glimmering in the sharp sunlight. 

A few thick, curly strands of hair stick out of Isak’s sealskin cap, lined with snow crystals. His hands are working on the metal box in front of him, arms lifted in a position that always makes Even wonder how he manages. Working like that for hours on end. It requires a certain strength, a stubbornness. A determination that Even isn’t sure he has himself. Makes him wonder what Isak’s arms look like – if they’re equally tough, sinewy, strong as his mind.

Sometimes, in the confines of the compound’s bathrooms, before going to bed, he’s caught a glimpse of the skin at Isak’s wrists, the woolen undershirt riding up ever so slightly as he’s lifted his toothbrush to his mouth. Even has looked away, careful not to meet his eyes in the mirror. It’s not for him to see.

What  _ is _ for him here should be clear by now – but things seems to work smoothly enough as far as he’s seen. Not much to dig into so far. It’s not a privilege granted to everyone, for sure, working here – but two weeks in, he’s already feeling partly redundant.

There’s no doubt what Isak’s place is here, though. It’s obvious in the determined concentration he directs at every task at hand, in the careful movements of his lean, strong fingers when fixing the small components of the conductors at the workshop. 

In his posture in this very moment, back straight, arms lifted, head tilted slightly to the side and forwards as Even plods closer. Close enough almost to smell the tiny sliver of skin exposed between his cap and the neck of his thick, puffy jacket.

Isak doesn’t turn around as Even approaches, just starts speaking into thin air. “It’s these new filaments from down south that – ouch!”

A spray of sparks flies out from where he’s lodged the screwdriver into the transformator, and his hands withdraw quickly, as if by reflex, even if there’s no way those thick gloves could convey the current to his skin underneath.

”Are you okay?” Even asks, anyway. 

Isak huffs, sound muffled by the scarf over his mouth. ”Yeah.”

His arms come down to hang along his sides. His gaze, however, is anything but defeated as he turns his head to look at Even – eyes glittering, almost playful. 

And Even thinks; he should be used to this by now. Really should. But after two weeks here, being hit by that determined, yet cheerful stare throws him more off balance with each passing day.

This wasn’t exactly how he expected this to go.

Sure, they’ve been over the formalities already, words passed across the rough wooden tables of the canteen, between the oldies and the newcomer. For Isak: one year down, four to go. 

He got his engineering degree in Oslo, then went on to field work at the Abisko station – the first one, built almost twenty years ago – before his auroreal post-doc in Umeå, and then on to here for the real frontier work. A straight line, from start to finish.

The few aberrations of Even’s own timeline are small enough to be able to be left out, now that he’s older. A few months here and there make less difference with the passing years. 

Regarding their respective civil statuses, no questions had been asked, and none received. It’s kind of self-explanatory, signing a five-year contract for a place like this, isn’t it?

Less certain if you’ve already been here for a year.

There hadn’t been a smooth way for Even to bring it up. And part of him is thankful for it – it allows his daydreams run free during the long hours down in the confines of his sleeping capsule, in a way. 

Even though he’s supposed to learn something new here, somehow the list of things he knows seems to shorten with each passing day.

Unlike Isak, who knows every nook and cranny of the research station’s vast underground expanse, every branching of the hallways, every narrow staircase. An all-access card to the facility’s every lab, save for the floors buried deepest underground.

Or, so he claimed, at least, that very first day when he shook Even’s hand, introducing himself as his assigned supervisor. The same hint of a laugh playing in the tanned lines at the corners of his eyes as now. 

Even should have known, already then and there, that he was truly and utterly fucked. 

No less than he is now, reflections of the already golden sunlight playing in the snow crystals gathered in the fur lining of Isak’s cap, only almost measuring up to the glitter in his eyes.

“Did you see the forecast for tonight?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows in the golden pink light streaming across his face, highlighting his every feature, down to the last lash.

Even knows he’s not here for the meteorological aspects of life up here; still, it’s hard to deny the gravitational pull of what everyone is waiting for. Talking about. The only chance they’ll have to really put their hard work to the test.

And the season is, after all, just about to begin.

“Does it look good?” Even asks, even though he suspects he already knows the answer. It’s visible in what he’s pretty sure is an almost boyish smile hidden under Isak’s scarf.

Isak bends down, picking up a long, sharp metal device from the tool box that’s sunk down into the snow beside him. “Yeah. Pretty good. So I’d really like to get this up and functioning, before –”

A sharp, loud signal, like a hunting horn, blasts through the snowy silence. Isak rolls his eyes. “They’re always so cautious – there’s still another half hour to go, I’m sure.”

The sun is, however, undoubtedly closer to the horizon than just mere minutes ago, fading into a darker shade of pink. Isak looks to the side, then to the task at hand, lifting the long metal rod to the box, screwing a tiny lid off and inspecting the circuit board behind it. “You’ll wait for me? Just a couple of minutes and we’ll go back there together. It’d be such a pity…”

Even can’t do anything but nod.

Five minutes later, Isak screws the lid back on, a confident smile playing in the corner of his mouth. 

”Come on,” he says, throwing the screwdriver into the toolbox, trudging through the darkening snow in the direction of the gates. 

They make it just as the horn sounds again, metal bars sliding together behind their backs as the last rays of sun vanish from the rooftop of the laboratory. 

 

* * *

 

The station is just how Even imagined it would be, and at the same time not at all. 

Sure, he’d expected the white, long corridors, the endless rows of identical doors; the long hours of silence; the sometimes lonely feeling creeping up on him, especially at night. 

As he heads towards his sleeping capsule, he prefers not to think about if the movement sensors suddenly wouldn’t function. Energy preservation might not be an issue in the summer months, when the sun never sets and the cells provide around the clock, but it is, undoubtedly, September. So, he’s starting to get used to the clicking of the sensors, the corridor lighting up only a few metres in front of him and then going dark behind him as he walks down aisle 5, floor -7, towards door 47.

He came on the season’s last train, the season’s last boat – for the coming months, there won’t be enough solar power to last the entire ride. Not until March, at the very least. 

Not for the first time, he wonders what it was like for his great grandparents, being able to go anywhere, anytime. Around the globe, even. Longyearbyen only an impossible three hours away from Oslo. The world at their feet.

It’s not like it will ever be the same, even if the experiments here succeed in the end, despite all their high hopes.

As he puts his finger to the touchpad, the door slides to the side with a swoosh, revealing his narrow bed next to the cabinet doors beside it. He’s done his best not to think of it as a cell of sorts – but knowing that every night, Isak sleeps only two doors down, doesn’t really help.

 

* * *

 

He wakes to an insistent pounding on the door.

The next thing he knows, a sharp pain runs from his forehead back to his neck and the top of his spine, forcing him to lie back down and put his hand over his eyes. The limited space and thus energy efficiency of these tiny cells weren’t made with Norwegians in mind, he’s sure – especially not him. 

“You’re gonna miss it!” Isak’s voice is muffled through the wall, but the excitement in it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Even folds himself out of his bunk, getting to the door in two swift steps as he drags a hand through his hair, without even looking in the mirror. 

“I’m coming!” he shouts as he presses the button on the wall, almost stumbling into Isak who’s standing right outside, positively vibrating with impatience. 

“Come on!” Isak says, taking him by the hand as he starts running toward the staircase.

It isn’t until they reach the end of the corridor that Even realizes that Isak is still  _ holding his hand. _ And it’s not until he lets go to open the door that the next insight hits him: that this is the first time that they’ve touched.

Like it’s commonplace between the two of them.

Isak holds the door for him, but doesn’t look back. Starts climbing the steps, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty-five, Even barely able to keep up as Isak slams the top floor door open without hesitation.

They run out on the landing, Isak clutching the metal bars in front of the glass wall overlooking the vast, dark expanse ahead, mountains looming in the distance. The tall, spindly lightning rods scattered across the field, swaying slightly even though the windsocks hang limply along their poles, their tips barely visible against the darkness up above.

Even has seen pictures of what they’re all waiting for, of course. Heard the tale that his grandfather once saw them himself, as a child. But nothing could prepare him for the overwhelming feeling of littleness, of his own insignificance, as the first streaks of green appear at the horizon.

Frozen into place, he watches as the sky sets on fire above them – an cacophony of green, purple and gold spanning the entire world, colours dancing across the snow, moving ceaselessly. It’s almost like he can hear it. If they were able to go outside, maybe there would be a faint crackling above – that’s what he’s heard – but in his mind, he pictures the sound more like the chiming of bells, or the deep echoing of a church organ. 

For minutes, he hardly blinks. Of all the things he’s seen in his life, he’s almost positive that nothing can compare to this.

But then, he turns his head and sees Isak’s profile to his left, illuminated from above: mouth slightly open in a rapt, almost blessed expression, eyes reflecting countless different shades of green. And when Isak turns towards him, meeting his eyes with that same playful, confident, challenging smile, Even isn’t so sure. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://irazor.tumblr.com)!


End file.
